


Fëanáro Is Dead or The Life and Opinions of Nolofinwë Arakáno, High King

by actuallyfeanor



Series: Letters from the Lost Continent [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Epistolary, Gen, Politics, Pseudo-History, but no more angst than the actual canon, pseudo-translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22266094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actuallyfeanor/pseuds/actuallyfeanor
Summary: A collection of unsent letters from Fingolfin, High King of the Noldor, shedding some light upon the former High King's relationship with his two brothers.
Relationships: Anairë/Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë, Finarfin | Arafinwë & Fingolfin | Nolofinwë, Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë & Maedhros | Maitimo, Fëanor | Curufinwë & Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë
Series: Letters from the Lost Continent [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603201
Comments: 16
Kudos: 74





	Fëanáro Is Dead or The Life and Opinions of Nolofinwë Arakáno, High King

_**Translator's note:** This collection of letters was discovered by Lord Elrond of Rivendell at the beginning of the Second Age, hidden between the pages of a beautifully illuminated volume of poetry that based on inscriptions and margin notes seems to have belonged to Fingolfin himself, though how it survived years of war to end up in Lindon we can only guess at. The authenticity of the letters is indisputable, as the handwriting perfectly matches official letters in Círdan's possession, written by the former High King. As the original letters are written in Quenya, and furthermore in the Valinorean Tengwar mode, which to some younger readers might present difficulties, I have taken the liberty of translating them into Sindarin, preserving only the Quenya names to show how the king and his family had not yet taken the Sindarin names by which they are known to posterity. I am grateful to Lord Elrond and to Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor, for endorsing the translation and publication of the letters, as I believe they provide hope in the face of adversity and a fascinating insight into the history of our people._  
_\- Erestor of Rivendell, S.A. 3380_

-

Arafinwë,

Fëanáro is dead. The bastard had the audacity to die before I got a chance to beat him to a bloody pulp for what he did to my people. How often did I not picture that moment while crossing the icy wastes? I would curl up in my cloak at night, dreaming of the day when I could march into his camp and challenge him to a duel for the kingship. "Get thee gone and take thy due place," I would tell him, like he once told me.

Alas, life seldom turns out the way we imagine. We arrived to the news of his death and Nelyafinwë's capture by the Enemy. There is great uncertainty over who is going to lead us now. Those who followed me across the ice, would rather die than be ruled by any of Fëanáro's brood, while those still loyal to Fëanáro feel that they would be betraying him, should they allow me to be crowned while his sons still live. Makalaurë flat-out refuses to be called king, saying that he has no right to usurp his brother. I ask myself whether I would have been as loyal to Fëanáro, had he been captured, had he not betrayed us, had he not held a blade to my throat … There are too many questions and not enough answers. Would you have refused to crown in the hope that I might still be alive?

No use in idle speculation. Fëanáro is dead, and for all his faults, the world is poorer for it. Fëanáro is dead, and the road ahead is shrouded in mist and shadow, so we hold our breath and wait. I wish you were here.

Nolofinwë

_

Fëanáro,

This is your fault. Our people is divided thanks to you and your bloody bull-headed stubbornness. May your spirit wander the Halls of Mandos restlessly for all eternity, for what you have done and caused.

My son is gone, on a fool's errand to rescue your son - provided he is still alive, provided he has not been turned by the Enemy to his side. My heart aches with worry, I can neither sleep nor eat. Did you care for your children like I care for mine? Or were the silmarils always dearer to your heart?

No, that was unkind. I saw you when you got the news of our father's fate. I saw your grief, your anguish. I saw my own desire for vengeance mirrored in you when you spoke. Why do you think I followed you this far, brother?

Nolofinwë

_

Arafinwë,

Nelyafinwë came to see me in private. A mere shadow of his former self, pale and gaunt, the stump of his right hand a hideous reminder of the price he paid for freedom, and yet I could see the fire burning in his eyes when he walked in. I expected him to argue and negotiate. (In a way I suppose I expected Fëanáro.) Instead he offered me the crown. He told me that he had given the matter much thought and reached the conclusion that it was the only way to unite our people against Morgoth. All he asked for in return was the right to govern his own followers without interference in all purely internal matters, which I was happy to grant him.

My heart is filled with hope such as it has not been for years. Together we might be able to stand against the Enemy and make him rue the day he made war upon the House of Finwë.

Nolofinwë

_

Anairë,

My love, my everything. Words fail me, here at the end. We have suffered horrible losses, our people are decimated, and so I do the only thing I can do in such a desperate situation. Do I have any hope of defeating him that I now ride out to face? Likely not, but someone has to do it. Someone has to make him pay for what he has done to the Noldor and to everyone else whose lives have fallen under his shadow. A good king protects his people; his life belongs not to himself, but to those who placed their trust in him when they swore to follow him.  
The fire that burns inside me is not of this world - it feels like molten iron poured in my veins, giving me strength to go down this dark road.  
If I should die, then I will die with your name on my lips. There are some lights even the darkness of the Enemy cannot extinguish.

Until we meet again,  
Nolofinwë


End file.
